Fear Factory Archetype

This album should have been released six years ago.

Harsh words? Not in the slightest, more a glowing praise. Simply put: Archetype, thrash/death metal band Fear Factory’s fifth LP since their debut in 1992 and first on new label Liquid 8 feels more like the natural successor to 1995’s Demanufacture than the actual successor did.

When Demanufacture was released, the metal community at large was bowled over by the sheer aggression that spewed from that record. Far from uncontrolled chaos, FF’s music worked hand in hand with their industrial edged, cold machinery image: drummer Raymond Herrera’s double bass clicked through songs at dizzying speeds in synchronized perfection while Dino Cazares’ guitars crunched and vocalist Burton C. Bell’s growls and screams shared time with almost chant-like cleans. For one young metal-head in particular, Demanufacture was one hell of an album.

Since ’95 and prior to Archetype, the band had released a remix album, Remanufacture, and two LPs, Obsolete (1998) and Digimortal (2001) (there were also a pair of cash grab/contract breakers courtesy former label Roadrunner Records but we’ll just ignore those, mmkay?). They had progressively modified their sound much to the displeasure of many old-school fans; the mechanical double bass took on a slower, more organic tone and Bell began to prefer clean vocals and less raspy shouts over the bands originally very death metal grunts and groans.

During these years, I’d pretty much stopped listening to the band altogether. Not that I didn’t like some of what was on the LPs, I’d simply moved on. Unfortunately for Fear Factory, the music I’d enjoyed when I was 16 just couldn’t compete with the wealth of stuff pouring in and the boys from La-La Land got left behind.

So, here we are in 2004. Following Digimortal, it was reported Bell was leaving the band, then Cazares decided to quit and all signs pointed to a complete breakup. All was quiet for a while when buzz began that the band would be releasing their first album in three years and bassist Christian Olde Wolbers would be playing the guitars. Call me a skeptic but I had some reservations about what I was about to hear.

Damn me if this album isn’t one killer of a release. Herrera’s double-bass is once again certifiably wicked, Bell’s growls are meaty and his cleans have broke from their droning, almost novelty-like quality to take on a far more important role in the band’s dynamic and all my bitching about Wolbers jumping into the guitar role was for naught as he simply doesn’t miss a beat. Far from an attempt to kiss and makeup to an embittered fan base, the band’s put together nearly an hour of songs where brutal and melodic can intermingle without sounding forced and allow old school fans to hopefully forgive and new ones to get in while the getting’s good.

Devils advocate time: the record’s not perfect; there are four stars up there instead of five for a reason. The lyrics won’t necessarily have you glued to the liner notes but in all honesty, this music’s never really been intended for deep, critical thought so it really doesn’t matter too much.

Another thing that’s plagued Fear Factory on occasion has been their habit to fall back into rote formulaic routines, most notably in the growl/clean/growl/clean vocals department. But there’s plenty of enjoyment in spite of this, including a harmonically rich title track, a surprisingly long ambient outro, “Ascension” followed by the band’s rendition of Nirvana’s “School” which ain’t bad at all, far and away better than their rendition of Gary Numan’s “Cars.” Blech.

New label, new record and new bassist in Strapping Young Lad’s Byron Stroud spell a new beginning for a band I’d pretty much written off by the latter half of the 90s. Sometimes it’s OK to be proven wrong.

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Release Date: April 20, 2004
Tracks: 13 - Time: 59:08
Produced by: Fear Factory
Format: CD
Website: www.fearfactory.com

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Fear Factory:

Burton C Bell - Vocals
Christian Olde Wolbers - Guitars / Bass
Raymond Herrera - Drums
Byron Stroud - Bass
Jon Bechdel - Live Keyboards